


Answers

by AngelQueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had to know. A missing scene for 3x10 <i>Queen of Hearts</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answers

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _Merlin_ is property of the BBC and Shine. I make no claim on it and write this for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> A missing scene for 3x10 _Queen of Hearts_.

The atmosphere throughout the castle was tense. A high number of guards were posted in several places, far more than was usual. The king had yet to rescind the order for the guards to leave their posts around the prince’s chambers, even after the old sorcerer had confessed to enchanting his son and his ward’s handmaiden. Still, most of them were situated in the areas nearest to the dungeons, with orders to kill the warlock if he forced his way out of his cell, or if anyone attempted to free him.

Despite the increased numbers of guards to avoid, Morgana did so easily. Months of sneaking about in order to meet with Morgause had made her very proficient at slipping through corridors and steering clear of anyone else who might cross her path. Pulling her violet cloak around her tightly, Morgana walked swiftly toward the dungeons.

It made no sense, she thought desperately. Why had the old man claimed to have enchanted Gwen and Arthur, when she knew for a fact that he had not? Why was all but placing himself on the pyre that had been built up in the courtyard? She didn’t understand.

When she came to the dungeons, Morgana paused, peering down over the railing. There were three guards, all of which were gathered around a small bucket of water and taking turns sipping from the ladle. She rolled her eyes as she pulled a small vial out of the folds of her cloak. The stupidity of Camelot’s guards never ceased to amaze her. They left themselves vulnerable even when they knew there were threats all around them.

Their arrogance would be their downfall, sooner or later. She and Morgause would make certain of it.

Within minutes, the guards were unconscious, laid out on the stones like dead men. Morgana didn’t even spare them another glance as she swept down the stairs and past them. She quickly ascertained which cell Arthur had thrown the warlock into. Tugging on the hood of her cloak to obscure her features, Morgana stepped up to the barred doorway.

The old man was standing in the center of the cell, his back to the door and facing the single, tiny window. It was dark outside, of course, but a small, faint glow still emanated through, thanks to the lit torches outside that illuminated the courtyard. His hands were clasped behind him, and he appeared perfectly calm and not at all frightened of the sentence Uther had laid down on him.

“Why?” Morgana asked, manipulating her voice to sound gravelly and completely unlike her own. Almost immediately, she wondered why, though. The man would be dead in a few hours, and it wasn’t as if anyone would believe she had spoken to him if he did say anything.

He turned around to face her, and Morgana thought she caught a flicker of surprise cross his thin, weathered features. “Why what?” he responded.

“Why are you doing this?” she reiterated. “You did not enchant Uther’s son and the maid. Why are you saying you did?”

The warlock did not answer her immediately, just studied her for several long moments. “I would ask you the same thing,” he finally responded. “Why are _you_ doing this, my lady?”

Morgana stiffened. He knew? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Much to her shock, he laughed. “You are not a fool, Lady Morgana; nor am I, so don’t act as though we are.” He stepped forward, coming close to the door. “Why did you frame your maid for the supposed crime of enchanting Prince Arthur?”

She pressed her lips together in annoyance and threw her hood off. There was no point in deception now. “How did you know that it was I that did it?”

The warlock shrugged. “I have observed the people in this place for a long time. You are not the same woman you used to be.”

Morgana sneered. “I am no longer blind to the blood that stains this kingdom, or the diseased monster that sits on its throne. I –”

He held up his hand, cutting her off. “I am very well aware of the sins of Uther Pendragon,” he told her. “They were visited upon members of my own kin. There is no need to repeat what we both know.”

Frustration flowed through her veins. “Why?” she demanded again. “Why are you throwing your life away?”

The old man sighed. “Because,” he answered, “I believe there are some things worth dying for. Some people as well.” He sent her a pointed look, his blue eyes sharp. “You once understood that, Morgana. There was a time you called Guinevere your most treasured friend. You would never have harmed her, much less set her up to be executed for something she did not do.”

Morgana clenched her fists, her nails digging into the skin of her palms as memories struggled to the surface of her thoughts. Memories she had tried steadfastly not to think of too much since Morgause had born her away from Camelot – of a young maid, shyly smiling at her as she held out a spray of beautiful flowers when she arrived for her first day of work, of the two of them learning to wield swords together in secret, of the loyal friend who had nobly sacrificed her freedom so that Morgana might escape the hands of bandits.

“She was in the way of my plans,” Morgana finally said, forcing herself to sound cold and detached. “Gwen could not be allowed to continue down the path she was on.”

“Ah,” was all that the warlock said by way of reply, at least at first. He stared at her in silence. The blue of his eyes was familiar, she suddenly realized, though she couldn’t understand why. Why ever that was the case, they made her uncomfortable. It was as thought he _knew_ her.

“Who are you?” she asked, seeking to distract him from staring at her in such a manner.

He cocked his head, considering her question. “You can call me… Emrys, I suppose,” he said.

Emrys. Morgana thought she recognized the name. Perhaps something Morgause had taught her during the year they had been together? She resolved to ask her sister when she next saw her.

“Well, then you are a fool, Emrys,” she told him. “Your death will be for nothing, will change nothing.”

“You have become very selfish,” he shot back, some heat entering his tone. “To put your own desires above the happiness and lives of other people.” Morgana opened her mouth to snarl back at him, but he kept going. “And you are wrong; Guinevere has been proclaimed innocent of any wrongdoing. She has been spared a horrible death. That is certainly something. As is the fact that the prince will not be forced to watch his beloved die.”

She gritted her teeth at the mention of Arthur, something the old man’s eyes caught. Suddenly the passion left his voice, and he asked her, barely above a whisper, “Do you truly hate Arthur so much?”

She wanted to shout at him, proclaim her hatred for all things Pendragon, but yet again, memories clouded her mind. She recalled the young boy who had teased and played with her when they were children, distracting her from the enduring sorrow over the loss of her father – _stepfather_ , Morgana amended silently, bitterly. She remembered the arrogant youth whom she had delighted in taking down a notch whenever she could, and how she had marveled over the occasional glimpses of the good man he was becoming, when he stepped out of Uther’s shadow.

No, Morgana did not hate Arthur. She never had, but he was in her way, just like Gwen. She and Morgause had a plan to save magic users from Uther’s genocide, and Arthur did not feature into the plan. He had under his father’s hand for too long, would never allow magic to come out of the shadows into which it had been pursued. He could not be trusted to do the right thing, and so he had to be swept aside.

Morgana was doing this for that plan. That, and a desire to see Uther suffer for all that he had done. Committing atrocities upon people who had done him no harm, refusing to recognize his own flesh and blood because of his over-inflated pride – it all demanded recompense.

Oh, and she wouldn’t mind seeing Merlin suffer as well. His betrayal too demanded a response.

Once again steady to her purpose, Morgana met Emrys’ gaze firmly. “Make peace with the gods,” she told him. “You will be meeting them soon enough, and with no thanks from those you sought to save. They will stand by Uther and revile you, just like him.”

Without waiting for a response, Morgana turned on her heel and left the dungeons. She did hear a faint reply, though.

“If you think Guinevere would hate anyone like that, then perhaps you truly are lost.” His tone was almost… sad. Morgana pushed it out of her mind even as something deep inside of her twisted painfully.

The guards were still completely insensible as she stormed past them. As she made her way back to her chambers, again deftly avoiding the guards patrolling the castle, Morgana steadfastly forced herself not to think of the past.

There was no point in it. The only option was move forward, and she had gone too far to stop and turn back now.


End file.
